


How Charming

by masqueradeofwords



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe, Gay Character, Gay Male Character, Gay Sex, Multi, Quidditch, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-21
Updated: 2016-10-06
Packaged: 2018-06-03 13:42:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 11
Words: 12,982
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6612838
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/masqueradeofwords/pseuds/masqueradeofwords
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What if the Triwizard Tournament had never happened? Harry and Hermione will find love in unexpected ways, and even Ron will find a romantic niche. Mostly focused on romantic pairings, less so on the overall setting. AU HP. </p><p>Updated: hopefully soon</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Antics of Wizards

**Author's Note:**

> This will become a larger fanfic, but I've just started working on it so you only have the introduction right now. This is un-beta-ed, and I would greatly appreciate feedback so -Please Comment To Let Me Know What You Think - 
> 
> \- Masquerade
> 
> I am not affiliated with J.K. Rowling, the Harry Potter book series, or any part of the Harry Potter franchise.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry and Ron get into trouble; Harry has trouble sleeping.
> 
> Author's Note:  
> Yes, I know that in the series Wood has already graduated. In this fiction he started one year later, so Harry's fourth year is his seventh and last.

Professor Sprout was luckily one of the more lenient professors, something that was astronomically fortunate for Harry and Ron. Had they been caught playing with their potions in Snape’s class, the two wizards would have been expelled in a heartbeat. As it was, the cheery woman reprimanded them sharply for teasing the Venomous Tentacula and assigned them a detention with her for extracting bubotuber pus. Ron, being the prat that he was, started moaning about it the moment Sprout had moved away to help Seamus, who was wrestling desperately with his Snapping Sage. 

 

“I can’t believe she gave us detention, and squeezing out pus no less. Blimey, I remember that envelope you got once with the horrid stuff in it, Hermione...pus. This is what we’ve sunk to.” He grumbled unintelligibly, reaching for a plant without looking. Ron was rewarded when the plant sunk its teeth into his forearm, and he doubled over with a hissed curse.

 

Hermione sighed, neatly sealing its jaws shut with the charm the Head of Hufflepuff had showed them. “Ron, you have to see that it could have been much worse. You do realize that the Venomous Tentacula can kill if provoked? You endangered the lives of the students nearest to it, including Dean and Parvati. If you had pulled an antic like that in Snape’s class, I imagine you would currently be residing in a dungeon whilst you waited to be expelled.” The smart witch flicked her wand in a precise motion, muttering Aguamenti. A small stream of water poured over the plant, and moistened the soil as Hermione directed it with her wand. Cutting it off with a sharp severing motion, she turned to face Harry. 

 

The Boy Who Lived waited a moment before realising that Hermione was asking his opinion. Scratching the back of his neck, he muttered, “Er, well, I don’t know. I think it was probably fair. I mean, Hermione is right after all. Imagine what Snape would have done.” He tried the circular motion Professor Sprout had showed them and succeeded only in turning the magical pot a sickly shade of green. The Snapping Sage hissed at him, its triangular heads weaving back and forth.

 

Ron slumped on his stool, clearly defeated without Harry’s support. The black-haired wizard scratched his neck again, uncomfortable, and tried his classic tactic. “Cheer up, Ron. After all, we’re free after this class. Maybe we could see if the giant squid is-”

 

Hermione cut him off with a sharp reproachful glance. “Maybe a pair of lazy wizards could work on their essays about Calciferous Concoctions instead of dallying about? After all, this is fourth year. Need I remind you that O.W.L.s are next year? I plan on actually passing them, but apparently you two dream about washing dishes at the Leaky Cauldron.” 

 

Ron scowled, crossing his arms, and neither wizard argued for fear that Hermione would loose a hex on them. The rest of the lesson was conducted in silence that was punctuated only by the swishing of wands and occasional howls as the class tried to tame their plants.

 

*************

 

Harry was in the Chamber of Secrets again, sitting on the floor. For some reason his robe wasn’t wet. He wondered if he was dreaming. Then a voice hissed in his ear, and he recognized it as Parseltongue. “Come to me, little wizard. Come to me, ride on my back.” The basilisk that inhabited the chamber slithered towards him from behind, but it had the face of Oliver Wood. Harry turned around to see lethal yellow - no, brown, eyes staring at him, and the last thing he saw was a slashing wand and green light.

 

The Gryffindor jolted upright in bed, sweating and shaky. Harry wiped his forehead, freeing the strands of hair stuck there, and slowly laid back onto his pillows. These dreams were rare for him, perhaps only occurring once or twice a month, but when he did have nightmares that ended in the green light Harry was always shaken afterwards. Sighing, he fumbled for his wand and glasses. Harry had discovered this trick, and he was always able to sleep peacefully when he did it. The Boy Who Lived wondered why he hadn’t done it before bed tonight.

 

A whispered phrase produced the silver stag, and Harry immediately felt his frazzled nerves settle. With the stag watching over him, the young Potter fell onto his pillows exhausted and drifted into a deep dreamless sleep.

 

************

 

“Harry!” A hissing voice jerked him awake, and he realized that he was being shaken hard. “Harry! You’re awake. Come on, get dressed, the Hufflepuff match is starting in half an hour.” Groggily sitting up, the fourth year rubbed sleep out of his eyes and found the urgent face of Oliver Wood staring at him. “Okay, okay. S'alright. M’ going now.” He stumbled to his feet, almost tripping over his pajamas, and shuffled over to his wardrobe.

 

Over ten minutes later, Harry jogged onto the field fully clothed with his Firebolt in hand. Dewdrops clung to his leather-clad ankles and the sun peeped over the Hogwarts horizon and sparkled on the lake. The figures already soaring in the air waved to him, and Harry watched Angelina and Katie throw a Quaffle around for a moment before kicking off. 

 

As the wind whipped around him, Harry’s worries all melted into exhilaration and happiness to be flying again. Swooping low, he angled the Firebolt steeply upwards again and spiraled vertically until he was skimming the underside of the clouds. After doing a few loops, Harry descended again to hover with the rest of the Gryffindor Quidditch team. Wood was giving his familiar seminar, accompanied word-for-word by the incorrigible Weasley twins. “This is it.” The three said in unison, George pretending to take his hat off and Fred adopting a dramatically grim expression. Pretending not to notice them, the Keeper continued with his speech while ignoring the increasing antics of the twins. However, when Fred mimed shoving his broomstick up his asshole Wood stopped, turning to him with a furious expression. “What will the Hufflepuffs think?” he yelled. “Fred, George, rein it in quite a bit or you’ll be sitting on the bench while McLaggen and Ron beat Bludgers together!”

Knowing that Wood wouldn’t stay true to his promise, Fred and George grinned angelically together. Those grins faded quickly, however, as they looked behind Wood with dread. Harry paled as he saw who was marching across the field wearing a stern expression and severe rectangular spectacles. Professor McGonagall looked stewing, and just about ready to jinx the first person who questioned her.


	2. The Seeker and the Keeper

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry and Wood find that they have a common interest, one that brings them very close together.

“What do you mean, the match is cancelled?” Wood gazed at Professor McGonagall with the eyes of a kicked puppy, his broomstick practically drooping from his gloomy aura.

 

“The match is cancelled, Wood, and that is final. I’m afraid that the Weasley twins have gone just a bit too far this time!” The witch’s nostrils flared with anger. “Their confections have landed Colin Creevey in the hospital wing, and Madame Pomfrey is furious. I have to say that I quite concur, and despite how much it pains me Gryffindor will be forfeiting this Quidditch match and the points that come with it. I hope, Mr. Weasley and Mr. Weasley, that this leaves an impression on you.” With that the stern professor walked back toward the towers of Hogwarts.

 

The team sank the the ground, faces ashen with disappointment. Wood, clearly fighting to keep back tears, cast a venomous glare at the suddenly not-so-jolly redheads before slinking off to the locker rooms. The other Quidditch players just looked at each other, the joking smiles most of them had sported while Wood was lecturing replaced with devastated looks. Fred and George, sensing the mood, sat a little to the side and silently argued over whose fault it was.

 

Once Harry had gotten past his initial shock, he could barely contain his anger. Normally he laughed along with the mischievous pranksters when they stole a toilet seat or swapped someone's wand for an ordinary stick, but this time it had cost them a Quidditch match that they should have won by all rights against Hufflepuff’s practically nonexistent offense. Instead, they were left sitting on the grass while red sand drained into the bottom of Gryffindor’s hourglass. The black-haired boy rose sharply, fighting back a curse or an insult aimed at the Beaters, and stiffly walked toward the locker room to find Wood.

 

******************

 

After a few minutes of searching, Harry finally found Wood, wearing only a towel, with his head buried in his hands. From the way his chest was contracting, the younger wizard could tell that Wood was silently sobbing. He knew that feeling, having shed many tears in the dark of his cupboard, so he sat down beside Wood. Harry knew that he didn’t have to speak, so he didn’t, but simply rested a hand on Wood’s bare shoulder. The Keeper stiffened for a long moment, seemingly in surprise, but quickly relaxed again once he realized it was Harry.

 

As he sat there, trying his best to console the crushed seventh year, Harry noticed, strangely, how soft Wood’s hair looked. The feathery ends were almost irresistible, and the younger wizard found himself wanting to run his hand through it, just to feel how gentle and silky it was. But he caught his hand midway through reaching up to ruffle it, forcing his fingers to rest on Wood’s shoulder again. Harry took a deep breath, shaking his head to clear the temporary madness, and said softly, “Oliver? Wood? Are you….alright?”

 

When the Keeper replied, his voice was hoarse and sorrowful. “This is my last year, my last chance to really make a mark in the Hogwarts Quidditch books. I know we won the Cup last year, but…,” he trailed off. “I wanted to win it again, to finish strong and be known as one of the better team captains Gryffindor’s had. And those redheaded-” Oliver choked off the words before they escaped his mouth, but Harry had a guess as to their nature. 

 

“Well, it’s not like it’s all over. And even if we don’t win the Cup, there could still be lots of good things about this year.” Harry was taken aback by how the sentence sounded out loud, and blushed a deep red. He was suddenly thankful that Wood couldn’t see him.

 

Wood grumbled and sat up, eyes puffed up and red. His hair was untidy, mirroring Harry’s in its level of scruffiness. “Like what? Quidditch is my life. You know that from the way I talk about it.” The Keeper’s gaze fixed on Harry’s, almost daring the black-haired boy to say something.

 

Harry swallowed and removed his hand from Wood’s shoulder, nervously shaking as he tried to put his glasses on. Why was he shaking? Probably the adrenaline rush and the letdown of a missed match. He cleared his throat. “Well, there’s friends and school. Erm, I suppose there’s dating too...weren’t you going out with Angelina?”

 

The brown-haired teenager shook his head glumly, another wave of moisture apparent in his eyes. “She said that it wasn’t going to work out, so she...broke it off. I guess, well, I can tell you why. It’s not like I have much of a life anyway, and it’s my last year here. Well, you see, she discovered that…” Wood appeared to be steeling himself. “She found out that I’m not really into girls, that I’m only really into guys.” The Keeper searched Harry’s eyes, wondering how Potter would react.

 

***********

 

Harry’s heart skipped a beat, and he could feel his blood pressure rise as if someone had performed a Levitating Charm on it. Wood’s gay. You know you can’t, you tried with Dean in the second year and you know how well that went. He might even like me. You don’t know that, not at all, there’s no proof and it’s too risky. Why else would he be telling me this? Harry scratched the back of his neck, hoping that Wood wouldn’t recognize his telltale sign of being uncomfortable. “Well,” Harry said as calmly as he could, “that’s perfectly fine. That’s all good, that’s great really. Are you, erm, seeing a bloke then?” The Seeker hoped desperately that his voice sounded level.

 

“No. I was...seeing one fellow but he decided that he wasn’t, well, interested anymore.” Wood’s voice broke on the last word, and he had to wipe at his eyes. “What’s your story? I think if I keep talking I’ll get permanently depressed.”

 

Harry undid the front part of his uniform in a short silence while he frantically wondered what to tell the seventh year. When he was only wearing a tight black shirt and his Quidditch trousers, he started. “Well, I was raised by Muggles in a cupboard and learned about the magical, erm, world when I was eleven. I don’t really know what else to, er, say. I, um, like blokes too if it’s any consolation. Girls too, though, I like both. Not just, er, one.” Harry blushed again, this time at his babbling, but luckily Wood didn’t seem to mind. In fact, when he heard what the fourth year had said his eyes widened with surprise. The two Quidditch enthusiasts sat silently next to one another for a long moment in a prickly silence, neither wanting to voice the thoughts that both boys were clearly having. 

 

Harry finally shifted, after what felt like hours, and turned to face Wood. Back at the first base, where he was silent. The lanky seventh year remained hunched over for an agonizing moment, leaving Harry wondering with a chill of fear whether he had made the wrong move.

 

When Oliver Wood’s soft lips pressed against Harry’s, he knew he had made the right choice. The two boys held it there for a tender moment, fireworks exploding in both teenagers’ brains, and Harry finally crumpled and ran his hands through the Keeper’s hair. It was even softer than it looked, softer than silk, even softer than the Invisibility Cloak’s folds. Love soared through Harry’s brain, unbidden, like a flock of doves that had emerged from a forest. The seeds has been there now, as Harry could see, right back to the first day when Wood had complimented him on his use of a Beater’s bat even though the Bludger had almost killed him. 

 

Grasping each other’s hair, Harry and Oliver came together again for a passionate kiss, this time letting go of the restraint that they had possessed and discarding it like a broken wand. Their tongues met, writhing together in a wet dance that should have been disgusting but wasn’t, while bolts of lightning that would have been invisible to an onlooker struck both players. And for that one glorious moment, Harry and Oliver were the same entity, bound together by flesh and spirit, moving in synchrony and thinking in perfect harmony.

 

The kiss broke off with both teenagers practically gasping for air, cheeks flaming red with pleasure and eyes sparkling with the light of desire. Harry slumped back, wiping his forehead and grinning like a madman. Similarly, Wood looked dazed with the intensity of their kiss and appeared to be paralyzed for several seconds. It felt like ages before either boy could find words for the experience.

 

“That was bloody amazing…” croaked Harry. “I didn’t know that anything could feel like that. It was, I don’t know, so intense.” He gazed at Oliver, wondering how he never noticed the seventh year’s prominent cheekbones and gorgeous dark brown eyes that smoldered with desire.

 

Wood nodded, running his hand through his own hair, and opened his mouth hesitantly. “So,” he began, “are we...doing this then?” His own glittering chocolate eyes probed his partner’s green ones for some kind of affirmation.

Harry nodded, and the two of them came together once more. He would have groaned with pleasure if he wasn’t attached to the Keeper by the mouth, but he still felt his trousers tauten. Surprised, Harry reached to cover it up but his hand went limp when Wood sucked at Harry’s tongue. Erection forgotten, Harry Potter melted into bliss.


	3. A Pleasant Surprise

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermione and Parvati work on a Potions essay together, while Harry and Oliver continue their passionate relationship.

The library was oppressively silent on a warm Saturday, as it always was, the deafening quietness punctuated only by the scratching of Madame Pince’s recordkeeping quill. Hermione was bent over her Potions essay, meticulously rewriting one section. Boomslang skin exhibits many qualities that allow it to be an essential ingredient in many potions. The skin is imbued with a natural resistance that...

 

Hermione sighed in frustration and set down her quill, looking out the window. The Weasley twins were, despite their contrition after the Quidditch incident, now sneaking up behind first years and turning their robes neon colors. Harry and Wood had gone off to train, like they did a lot these days. The Gryffindor witch suspected that the team captain was teaching Harry a secret technique to give their team an advantage in the Ravenclaw match this Saturday, although she did wonder why it had to be so exclusive. Perhaps it was simply a security issue.

 

Madam Pince stared daggers at Hermione when the legs of her chair scraped against the stone, but the girl simply shrugged it off as she made for the kitchen. She was planning on visiting the house-elves there to make sure they were being treated well and they were happy with their jobs. Perhaps, she mused, she could even ask them to show her how to make their school-famous treacle tart. Looking down at the book she had checked out, Hermione felt a small thrill of excitement. Working Witches in History was one of the few books that she hadn’t read in the library, surprising even herself. On the cover, a photo of smiling witches pointing their wands at a Chimaera greeted the reader.

 

Hermione, still examining the cover of her newlyfound prize, bumped straight into another girl who had her nose buried in a magazine. Both witches were sent tumbling backwards, and papers spilled across the library steps. The other witch quickly righted herself and hurried over to help Hermione, gushing an apology. “Oh my goodness, I am so sorry! I can’t believe that I - 'Mione!” 

 

The bushy-haired witch glanced up and started with surprise. “Oh! Parvati! I’m honestly surprised...I thought you’d be outside with Lavender. She’s reading poetry with some Hufflepuffs, I saw her through the library window.” Parvati noticeably stiffened, and answered a heartbeat too late.

 

“Well, I really have to get this Potions essay done so I told Lavender I’d meet her once I was done.” Parvati bent down and shuffled some of the papers into a pile. When she spotted Hermione’s essay outline, she brightened up again. “I see you’re doing the Calciferous Concoction writeup as well, would you like to collaborate on it? I mainly came because I swiped a great book from Neville that has a ton of information on waterwacks in it, want to go over it together? Maybe you could explain what the doxy eggs do?”

 

Replacing her homework, Hermione hesitated for a moment before nodding. “Sure, that sounds great! I’ve been needing more information on the waterwacks anyways, so that book ought to help.” She looked down at her feet for a moment, oddly averse to Parvati’s gaze. The other girl’s eyes had always seemed so sharp and perceptive, so the fact that Hermione found herself unable to look at her fellow Gryffindor’s face meant that Hermione was subconsciously hiding something, something that she didn’t want Parvati to know. The young witch sighed and tried to smooth down her bushy hair, still pondering her strange fear of looking directly at Parvati.

 

As they worked together, Hermione and Parvati debating the necessary amount of boomslang skin or Parvati highlighting a particular passage with Flembing’s Impermanent Highlighter, both witches were pleasantly astonished with each other. Parvati had thought the female counterpart of the Golden Trio to be an extreme bookworm and rule-monkey turned wild witch by her two friends, and instead found a funny, smart witch who loved making sarcastic comments. Hermione, on the other hand, had always seen Parvati as Lavender’s dogged follower, always airily putting off homework and trying lots of weird magical beauty products. Instead, Parvati was actually a very smart witch who had a quiet intensity about her that Hermione appreciated.

 

When they reached the end of their essay, twelve inches completed, Hermione looked at Parvati with a trace of sadness that they would be going separate ways. Patting down her bushy hair, a clear sign to herself that she was nervous, Hermione cleared her throat. “Parvati,” she whispered, “would you, um, like to hang out sometime? We could do our homework together again, we make a good team.” Luckily Madam Pince was in the Restricted Section, otherwise she probably would have hissed at them both.

 

Parvati beamed. “Sure! But not for homework, what if we went swimming in the lake? We could bring a picnic, and tickle the squid. Saturday, at noon?” The beautiful Indian girl brushed a dark lock of hair behind her ear.

 

Hermione smiled back, and nodded. The two witches parted ways, both looking forward to the coming Saturday.

 

***************

 

Oliver had Harry’s head in his lap, stroking the younger boy’s silky black hair while the Boy Who Lived practiced Cheering Charms. As a result, both boys were undeniably giddy with happiness, giggling and hooting at passing butterflies and even a worm they spotted. Eventually Harry gave up the practice, though, and simply snuggled up to Wood. “Oh, Harry.” Oliver murmured.

 

“Mmm, Oliver.” Harry rested his head against the brown-haired boy’s shoulder and breathed in his sweet scent, relishing the subtle touches of sweet mint or perhaps cinnamon. Lifting his head up marginally, with a sparkle to his eyes, Harry swooped in and tenderly kissed Oliver’s neck, sucking at the skin like a remora fish. The air crackled between the two of them, and as they embraced each other both boys felt whole, somehow, like a bullet loaded into a gun. Allowing Harry to kiss his neck, Oliver leaned forward and nuzzled the other boy’s ear, breathing into it just a little. He almost laughed, rewarded beautifully, when goosebumps erupted all across Harry’s arms. Oliver also, of course, purposefully ignored Harry’s newly tenting trousers. After all, he could feel his own firm bulge begging to rip free of its cloth coverings.

 

Harry suddenly stopped for a moment, just resting his head on Oliver’s shoulder, and asked a question that sent a chill down the seventh year’s back. “What do we tell them? The team, our friend. The whole world I suppose.”

 

Oliver pulled away so that the two boys were touching only by their ankles, and replied with a furrow of his brow. “Well, I think for now we won’t tell them anything. Perhaps for the next month you could have detention with a professor...no, explain to them you got in trouble with Filch, how about that, so you’ve got detention for a month. Then, if this whole thing works out, we tell them the truth.”

 

“That’s less complicated than I thought it might be.” Harry sighed with relief, and gave Oliver a swift peck on the lips. “I really like you, you know.”

Oliver growled. “Come here, Potter.” He took Harry’s head in his hands and started kissing him all over. Twilight found them entwined, lying together in the grass, hearts beating together with the fire of young love.


	4. Cutting it Close

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermione and Parvati enjoy lunch together; Harry and Oliver are almost exposed.
> 
> Author's Note:  
> Yes, I know that in the series Wood has already graduated. In this fiction he started one year earlier, so Harry's fourth year is his seventh and last.

Hermione stretched, almost yawning in front of her friend but desisting. Parvati was definitely more of the dainty sort, so she doubted the other witch would appreciate witnessing her mouth. Instead, she took a bite out her sandwich. The other girl had brought ham and cheese sandwiches fresh from the kitchens, and had even manage to wrangle a small jug of refreshingly cold pumpkin juice. 

 

The pair of witches had observed the activities of the students around them with wry amusement, chuckling at a pair of first years trying to duel and the Weasley twins giving away free cookies that caused the consumer’s hair to change color briefly. Hermione had made a brief attempt at her Arithmancy homework while she ate, but abandoned it quickly after she had tried to solve an algebra equation and ended up with no variables. Instead, Parvati and Hermione chatted about trivial things while they watched sunlight dapple on the lake. “What do you want to do when you leave Hogwarts?” the other Gryffindor asked thoughtfully.

 

Hermione paused. “Well, there’s a couple things I would love doing. Working for Muggle relations, or the Department of International Magical Cooperation, or maybe Magical Law Enforcement. But if I had to choose, and if I could, I would teach here at Hogwarts. What about you?”

 

Parvati shrugged. “I really don’t know. I’ve thought about opening an apothecary, teaching meditative magic, or even taming magical beasts but I’m still not sure. I’m good at Charms, so maybe I could work at the Ministry wherever they need that? Ooh, what about the Department of Mysteries, do you think I should do that?”

 

The other witch laughed. “You’d be great at whatever they do, but everyone would know you’re an Unspeakable! Frankly, if you weren’t still going to school I would think that of you now…” Hermione snorted. “Meditative magic is cool though. Do they practice that in many eastern countries?”

 

Parvati nodded. “I learned it during our third summer in India. It’s mostly like regular magic, but a lot of people believe that if you achieve a true meditative state while casting your spells will be unmatchably precise. I think it’s true, having tried it.” She shivered in a sudden breeze, and glanced at the lake. “Come on, let’s go swim!”

 

Hermione and Parvati ran into the lake laughing together, and Hermione dove underneath the water. On a day like this, the lake was as warm as any Muggle pool and filled with magical kelp that grew up to the surface. Parvati followed Hermione as they swam toward the center of the lake, feeling the waters cool down until the lake water chilled their skin. “Thank you for inviting me, Parvati.” Hermione said quietly. She was hyper aware of Parvati’s perfectly sculpted eyebrows, sleek dark brown hair, and huge doe eyes. The witch had to clench her fist under the water to suppress the mooniness that wanted to envelop her. 

Hermione sighed inside, knowing that this was going to happen. It had happened before, over the summer with a Muggle girl, and it hadn’t ended well. Her head was spinning in a hurricane of confusion and longing, and she closed her eyes trying to still the storm raging inside.

 

When she opened them again, Parvati was staring at Hermione with alarmed concern. “Hermione? Hermione!” Her brow relaxed. “Are you all right? You look deathly pale.”

 

Parvati’s friend smiled and nodded. “Yes, I’m okay. Sorry, I just had a cramp.” She suddenly splashed water at the twin, and before long the two were involved in a full-on splash fight. Feelings overcome, Hermione soundly beat back Parvati with several waves that finished her new friend.

 

***********

 

Harry grinned at Oliver. “This is brilliant! No one can hear us, and we can just stay down here.” The beautiful boy briefly kissed his older partner inside the Bubble-Head charm that they were sharing. Wood had said it would last about an hour, but only 30 minutes for them since the proud seventh year had managed to cast an extra-large bubble for them to share. 

 

Oliver and Harry were snogging for what was probably the dozenth time, but this time they were kissing at the bottom of the lake with kelp brushing their ankles and merpeople singing in the distance. Every time they met secretly, the lightning between them flashed more brightly. This time, Harry was almost knocked unconscious by the powerful surge of happiness and passion that welled up when Oliver kissed him so tenderly. Harry didn’t even notice the snickers of passing merpeople or the fish that was nibbling at his knee, he was so infatuated with the older boy’s satin-soft hair and solemn brown eyes. Wood, in turn, was absolutely captivated by Harry.

 

They moved together and apart again, kissing with locked tongues and dazedly panting in turn. It was a beautiful dance, one that stirred joy in both people. At one of these moments, when Harry and Wood were lustily regarding one another, the youngest Seeker in a century said the words, the three that mattered more than any other words because of the depth and commitment they carried. Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived, said them to Oliver Wood. They were hushed, hesitant, whispered, but then they were there.

 

Oliver smiled, a smile that was saved especially for Harry, and returned the favor. He spoke softly, gently, but with an intensity that paralleled how the older boy felt about Quidditch. "I knew it from the start, right when I saw you, even though I was only in fourth year." Something clicked between them, a final puzzle piece put into place. Harry's response was to caress Oliver's neck, gazing at him with green eyes that seemed to glow in the murky lake. They came together, resuming the dance, and kissed even more wildly than before while the merpeople looked on.

 

************

 

Hermione had cast the Bubble-Head Charm on both her and Parvati so that the two of them could explore the lake together. The witches dove underneath the surface excitedly, and Hermione grinned as her friend gasped in astonishment. Beneath them, the homes of the merpeople were planted in the sand. Parvati started to drift toward the delicately crafted underwater cottages, but Hermione grabbed her wrist and shook her head firmly. The merpeople were almost like the centaurs in terms of their trespassing policies. Instead, Hermione guided her towards a neat little clearing in the middle of the kelp forest that she had found before.

 

***********

 

Oliver broke off their kiss, eyes widening, when he saw the merpeople scatter in all directions. “Someone must be coming.” His nostrils were flared with fear and worry, and he yanked Harry out of the clearing in a rough movement. Both boys were sent tumbling into the mass of plants, just as two figures wearing Bubble-Head Charms sat on the sandy bottom where Oliver and Harry had been only moments ago. Peering through tangled leaves and stems, Harry cursed inside their bubble when he saw Hermione and Parvati. “That was close,” he whispered to Oliver.

 

The Keeper was kneading his fingers together. “I think we shouls go, it’s still risky to be here.” His eyes pleaded with Harry’s. “Can we go? I don’t want them to know just yet.”

Harry sighed but nodded his assent, and together the two lovers swam up to the sparkling surface of the Black Lake.


	5. The Silver Lining of Stormclouds

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermione discovers a truth that breaks her heart and drives a wedge into between her and the rest of the trio, but things look up when she finds a diamond in the rough.

Harry sighed and leaned back in his chair. “It feels so weird to think that Voldemort is still out there, somewhere, you know? Waiting for something like the Sorcerer’s Stone, probably.” He examined his nails, and resolved to trim them soon. After all, now that he was dating Wood...Harry almost visibly flushed at the idea that has passed through his brain, and plucked his quill from the inkpot. “What is this essay about again?”

 

Hermione, who was studiously reading a book about witches, fixed him with a glare. “Calciferous Concoctions, twelve inches. You’ll need to explain how the boomslang skin, doxy eggs, waterwacks and dragon blood contribute to the potion, how it works, what it does, and any final comments.”

 

Harry pushed up his glasses and wrote his name at the top of the page, along with the date. “The Intricate Details of a Calciferous Concoction.” He said his title out loud, much to the chagrin of Madam Pince. Then the boy paused. “Hermione, what is a Conifering Contraption?”

 

Never in his life had Harry seen Hermione look so indignant, as she mirrored Hedwig when he almost forgot to give the owl treats after deliveries. Luckily, he was saved by Ron plopping down next to the pair with a dreamy expression on his face. “That was bloody incredible.” He slumped against the chair back, his mind clearly elsewhere.

 

Discomfited by how close his reaction was to Harry’s first time, the black-haired wizard tried to shrug it off. Plastering a wry grin on his face, Harry raised his eyebrows and inquired, “Who and where?”

 

“In Myrtle’s bathroom...Parvati Patil.”

 

***********

 

Hermione could barely force herself to stay seated in her chair as Harry congratulated Ron. A maelstrom had just erupted inside her chest, ripping her heart into shreds. The redhead’s words replayed in her head dozens of times, each one a knife stabbing her soul. Parvati Patil...in Myrtle’s bathroom...Parvati...bathroom...Parvati…

 

She tucked her book under her arm, forcing her face to stay blank, and gave the boys an excuse she didn’t remember. They might have replied, but Hermione wouldn’t have heard them. Her ears were filled with, strangely, shrieking wind and a noise that could only be described as the hollow sound that dementors produced if you listened to them. She tore into the girls’ bathroom, noting somewhere in the back of her mind that this was where the three of them had defeated the troll. Sobbing, the anguished witch locked herself into a stall and let her tears drip into the porcelain. Grasping her hair, Hermione screamed silently until her lungs felt like a crushed tin can. Confused. Hurt. Angry. Regretful. Beautiful. Parvati.

A lone voice, reminiscent of clouds, drifted across the seemingly empty bathroom. “You can scream out loud if you need to, you know. It’s much better than holding it in.” The sound of a single page turning.

 

Shocked, Hermione’s sobbing faltered and she turned to face the voice. “Hello? Who is that?” Her voice sounded weak and watery to her own ears, but the witch hoped that somehow it projected strength to the stranger.

 

A stall door opened, and out stepped one of the strangest witches Hermione had ever seen, with wispy white-blonde hair, clear blue eyes, oddly shaped earrings, and a long green dress that swept the floor. When she spoke, her voice was dreamy and angelic. “I’m Luna, Luna Lovegood. You’re Hermione Granger.”

 

The brown-haired witch stared at Luna for a long moment before responding, “Yes. Why did you say that...about screaming? Why are you in here anyway?”

 

Luna laughed lightly. “Well most girls use this room as a bathroom, but I go to my corner stall to write. And I said it because it’s true, of course. I would know. I like your wand, by the way, vine wood is so pretty.”

 

Hermione was completely stumped about how to respond, so she cautiously said, “Okay.”

 

“Do you want to see what I’m writing? Don’t worry, it’s nothing sad or anything like that. I like reading and writing, it’s what cheers me up. It seems to cheer you up too, since I see you in the library all the time.”

 

“Well, yes, sure. Have you been watching me?” Hermione shifted uncomfortably at the thought.

 

Luna shook her head emphatically, making her odd earrings oscillate. “No, of course not. I don’t watch, I observe. There’s a world of difference. But I don’t go stalking people or anything like that. I observe everything that’s around me, like clouds and books and girls and boys.”

 

“What do you think after observing me?” Hermione asked mostly out of curiosity. Luna cocked her head like a small bird, then said, “You’re smart, you love books, you don’t really like Ron but you put up with him, you like Harry but not in that way because you’re a lesbian or at least bisexual-”

 

Hermione’s eyebrows shot up into her forehead. “Luna!” she hissed. “Why did you say that? I mean, it’s true but why did you feel the need to mention it?”

 

Luna shrugged. “Because it’s true. There’s nothing strange or unusual or wrong about it. If it bothers you, I am too.” Her brow furrowed in thought. “At least in theory. I’ve never had a girlfriend or boyfriend before, or even just a friend really.”

Hermione’s heart ached for the lonely dreamer, and before she could stop herself she asked, “Would you like to be my friend?”

 

Luna beamed. “Really? I’d love to! Where do you want to go?”

 

The brunette witch laughed at Luna’s eagerness, but replied seriously, “The library, of course. Where else? We can provoke the wrath of Madam Pince.”

Two girls exited the bathroom with smiles on their faces and book bags proudly on their shoulders, already chatting about books.


	6. The Lion's Roar

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry and Oliver get a little cozier with one another...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whoops, no longer a Teen-rated work! Also, if you're thinking "That doesn't sound like Oliver! You got his physical traits totally wrong, he's supposed to be burly, not thin!" then I know that I'm deviating a bit from canon and I don't care. Enjoy!

Harry grinned mockingly at Oliver, waggling his eyebrows. “Is the great Keeper of Gryffindor so easily daunted by a mere Charms essay?” The Gryffindor common room was empty, as it was a Hogsmeade day.

 

Oliver grinned himself and ruffled Harry’s hair lovingly. “No. I’m brilliant, of course. I’m daunted, however, by the prospect of not seeing you after a tedious Potions lesson. Flitwick is throwing us a bone with a Folding Charm essay anyway, knows we covered them last year. Besides,” he twirled his wand in his hands, “doesn’t my little Potter have a Divination exam..?” The handsome seventh year smirked. 

 

With a roll of his eyes, Harry stuffed his words with as much sarcasm as he could. “Oh, I suppose I had better go examine what a dream about a flying bathtub means, because it’s going to be such an important life skill. You know what, I should spend 24 hours a day staring at a crystal ball so I can be prepared to go into a useful and high-paying job, don’t you think so?” Wood burst out laughing, his hearty chuckle music to Harry’s ears as the older boy bent over wheezing with delight. Unfortunately, the oak wand that his fingers were rotating shot out a silver spell, which hit a Gryffindor banner and caused the lion sleeping in it to wake up and let out an enormous roar. Ruffling its fur and casting them a loathing glare, it settled down again to watch them with its tawny yellow eyes. This, of course, caused both boys to laugh even harder.

 

“Ah, that was a real treat.” Harry reminisced as he dabbed his eyes with his sleeve. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen the lion that angry...not even when Lavender spilled pumpkin juice on its banner.” Oliver snickered in agreement, still smiling with amusement, and bent over Harry to gently kiss him. The Boy Who Lived concurred without saying a word, leaning up to receive the manifestation of Oliver’s love. Their lips fit together like key and lock, the width and shape aligning like it was crafted to be so.

 

After a long and tender makeout session, Oliver pulled back. “Harry,” he began hesitantly, but seemed to gain confidence and finished his sentence, “would you like to go upstairs? To my bed?” The older boy bit his lip and flushed, wondering if he had just made a terrible mistake. For a moment, while Harry just looked surprised, he thought he had. But when the slender fourth year bent his lips into a cocky smile, he had to avoid slumping with relief.

 

“I think I’d like that very much. Been waiting for you to ask.” His beautiful boyfriend stood up, brushing his dark hair out of his eyes, and extended a hand to Wood. “Shall we?” As they walked up the stairs, Harry was tingling with excitement. Wondering what it would feel like. When Oliver slid Harry’s robe from his shoulders, he started to get an idea. “I’m nervous,” he blurted out as Wood’s slim fingers undid his tie and threw it aside with a sexy flourish. The seventh year laughed softly, and Harry was surprised to detect a tremble in his voice as well. “Do you think I’m not?” his hands ran over the younger boy’s collared shirt, undoing the buttons one by one. “I may have done this before, but the first time with someone is always the first time.” Harry shivered as he felt cold air on his chest, wanting instinctively to pull his arms in front of his chest but fighting the urge. It paid off when Oliver whistled, his warm fingertips stroking the black-haired wizard’s abdominal muscles. “Didn’t know you had abs.” He squeezed Harry’s thin upper arm gently, surprised to find firm muscle sheathing the humerus. Harry gasped when Oliver kissed his bicep gently, liquid brown eyes sparkling.

 

As the older wizard pulled his own shirt over his head, Harry felt a fuzzy feeling when he saw Oliver’s pale skin and tight stomach. He wanted to stroke the Keeper’s muscles as well, but hesitantly hung back as the tie came off. Oliver was glorious, even more glorious than Harry had imagined, and he couldn’t resist the urge any longer. Walking slowly over to Wood, he gently ran his smaller hands over arms, chest, and stomach. Feeling the lithe muscle underneath the milky skin. And then, a gasp of surprise as Oliver reached in and undid Harry’s fly. The button still holding them up. The thrill of adrenaline as Harry’s pants fell to the floor with a soft thwump. 

 

Holding his breath, daring, Harry reached over and tugged down the other boy’s zipper. Oliver almost swooned at the cold touch, and couldn’t help releasing a small gasp as his own pants descended to his feet. Bubbling over with excitement and a tinge of anxiety, he closed his eyes and removed the final barrier to nudity. When he opened them again, Harry was standing there looking at him. When he dared to glance down a bit farther, he was startled to see that his partner was also naked. Visually probing each others’ bodies, Oliver and Harry both felt warm as they saw all of one another for the first time. Modulating his voice into what he hoped was more of a sexy growl and less of a disgruntled house elf, Oliver remarked, “Are we going to stand here looking at each other or get down to it?” Twitching one eyebrow, he almost crossed his fingers for not house-elf.

 

Luckily Harry was’t reminded of Dobby. Instead, the fourth year grinned and shot back, “Only if you carry me.” Oliver moved closer. “Sounds like a challenge.” As Harry was swept off his feet and held close to the other boy’s chest, he gazed lovingly at the brunet’s feathery hair. “Challenge accepted. You're pretty light for a boy only three years younger than me.” Harry tensed up as he remembered his cupboard. Soggy soup. A catflap. Hunger.

 

He shrugged, mumbling some vague excuse, but Oliver understood. He dropped the topic, and instead laid Harry down on his lush draped bed. The younger wizard thought for a moment, then cast a Muffliato around the area. Wood, recognizing the spell, nodded approvingly. “Good thought. After all, we wouldn't want to make poor old Filch jealous.” Both wizards sniggered at the thought, and Oliver sat next to Harry so they were side-by-side. He ran his hands through Harry’s silky satin hair, closing his eyes and enjoying the feel of the individual strands brushing against his palm. Kissing Harry on the forehead. Then the bridge of his nose, and the angular tip. Harry laid down on the pillows, enjoying Wood’s kisses as they moved down his face, his neck, and his torso, every one of them sending another small wave of bliss through Harry’s brain. 

 

Harry grew slightly nervous as Wood’s caressing lips touched the bottom of his stomach, wondering if he was going to keep going. The center of Harry’s hips, where the skin was soft and tender, provoked a sharp inhalation. He removed his circular glasses, preparing for the touch that he knew was coming next.

“Oh!” Harry cried out loudly. Happiness. Bliss. Better than the time he first rode a broomstick, better than the moment he defeated the troll, the moment he freed Sirius. This moment overshadowed them all, made them seem dull and lifeless by comparison. Fireworks. Love. Incredible. The last one he whispered out loud. “Oliver.”


	7. Unusual Insights

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermione and Luna bond more closely, while Oliver and Harry explore the ramifications of their first truly intimate moment together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello all, and for those of you who have bookmarked the story I apologize for the lack of updates recently! Readers, let me know if you have preferences or ideas about which way the story should go or errors that need resolving. Enjoy!
> 
> \- masqueradeofwords

“Do you think the giant squid is lonely?” Luna looked over at Hermione, closing the Muggle puzzle book she was reading.

 

“What?” The other witch’s quill stopped its fluid script, and Hermione looked up from her Ancient Runes essay. “Sorry, you caught me off guard. Well…” she tilted her head thoughtfully. “I suppose it might, sometimes, but it has the merpeople and the other fish. And it’s not like anyone is going to ‘hang out’ with it or anything.”

 

“I guess so. But I’m going to ask Hagrid if we can have another one, so it won’t be alone anymore. It’ll have another of its kind.” The sunny Ravenclaw smiled at the thought.

 

Hermione snorted and started to translate the next line. “Luna, you know Hagrid. He’s wonderful, of course, but...the lake would have seventeen giant squid in it by next week if you did that. The giant squid will just have to play with other fish for now, I think.”

 

Luna brushed a wispy strand of white-blonde hair out of her face and opened the puzzle book again. “I’m stuck on this one...can you help? I have no idea who did it. I mean, the chef seems like a viable choice because he has so many knives, but how do I tell which alibis are valid and false?”

 

The Gryffindor smiled and took the book. “Well, you have to assume that none of them are just completely lying about what they did, and see which one doesn’t logically work. But you wouldn’t have figured this one out, it’s all about the Muggle post system. You see, there’s no post on Sundays, which shows that the maid was lying!” She handed the book back to the Ravenclaw.

 

“Muggles are odd, aren’t they? But they’ve had to get by without magic, which they’ve done pretty well at. Wizards don’t give them enough credit, I suppose.” Luna flipped the page.

 

Hermione was about to reply, but the angry shouting of Madam Pince cut her off. “Scoundrels! Get out of my library, and you’re banned for a week!” The spectacled fury raced past them, shaking a quill at two suspiciously familiar figures. “Those boys...I wish Percy was still here. He was so kind to the books.” Sighing, the witch retreated to her desk holding a book dripping with green ooze.

 

Hermione shook her head in disappointment, rolling up her essay and stowing everything in her bag. “Fred and George. I swear, when they grow up, those two are going to get arrested once a week.” Swinging her book bag up onto her shoulder, Hermione raised her eyebrows. “Are you coming for dinner, Luna?”

 

The dreamy witch hesitated, but nodded. “I’ll sneak into the Gryffindor table. No one will notice, I’m sure.” The friends left the library in high spirits, throwing paradoxes back and forth. 

 

Hermione left Luna at the door to the Great Hall, promising to come back once she had replaced her things. The bushy-haired witch also made a note to find Harry, whom she hadn’t seen once the entire morning. The Gryffindor emerged breathing heavily at the portrait of the Fat Lady, but muttered “Ragican Renalis” and half-jogged up to the girl’s dormitory. When she came back to the Common Room, she looked around. “Harry?” 

 

When there was no reply, she tried again louder. “Harry, are you in here?” Hermione moved to peer through the window, wondering if Harry was practicing. But the Quidditch field was barren of swooping players, so the witch stepped back.

 

Shrugging, Hermione left the common room. After all, she could easily locate Harry at the Gryffindor table.

 

**************

 

Harry opened his eyes. The dark drapes obscured everything in darkness, of course, so it was a pointless endeavor. But it was nevertheless a first step toward waking up. He stretched, yawning, and noticed how hot he was. Touching his skin, Harry wrinkled his nose to see that it was damp with sweat.

 

Sitting completely upright, Harry wiped his forehead and pushed sticky black hair out of his grass-green eyes. Reaching to his left and sticking his hand out of the drapes, he fumbled for his glasses on the nightstand. Nothing. Frowning, Harry started to exit the bed. “That might be unwise, considering your state of undress.” A voice from behind.

 

Freezing, Harry turned around. He couldn’t see the speaker, so he cracked open the drapes to get a good look at the other person’s face. When he saw a shirtless Oliver Wood looking at him, the warm flush permeating the fourth year’s cheeks instantly drained. Closing the drapes again, Harry sank onto the bed. As memories before his sleep came flooding back, Harry felt stunned. He couldn’t move, couldn’t speak. The black-haired wizard was frozen, still processing what had happened.

Oliver’s gentle fingers stroked Harry’s hair, and the older boy smiled knowing that the wizard he loved couldn’t see it. “I know it’s a lot to work through, the first time. Things are just that way, I suppose, so being intimate carries a lot of psychic weight with it.” He rested his hand on the smaller boy’s shoulder. “I can help, if you want.”

 

Harry sighed. A long moment passed between them, an awkward silence fluttering between them like an unwanted insect. “It’s just...I don’t know. It’s confusing, erm, if you know what I mean. I just need to work out everything, I guess, and…” he trailed off and looked down, trying to hide the frustration that colored his cheeks at how the things he wanted to say were sticking in his throat.

 

The older boy paused for a long moment, trying to formulate a sentence, before speaking softly. “When I first came to Hogwarts, I was pretty ordinary. I had been raised in a wizarding family, moved here from Scotland when I was eight, and I came to Hogwarts so excited. I got Sorted into Gryffindor, and had a normal first year. Nothing like yours.” Wood smiled to himself at the memory of Quirrell, and continued. “In my second year, I joined the Gryffindor team as Keeper, and the next year I became the captain of the team.” He closed his eyes for a moment, and then continued, “In my third year, last year, I got a girlfriend of sorts when I became the captain. Broke up with her a month later. And then, one night in the Common Room, some of the older students had a party. They didn’t tell the younger students that everything was laced with a cheaply brewed love potion. Near the end of the night, I ended up kissing a sixth year boy. That was when I knew, I suppose.” Oliver chuckled softly. “I think I’ll end the monologue there. Enough for you to get the point.”

 

Harry took a deep breath and nodded. “I think that might have, erm, helped a bit. Thanks.” He seemed to be on the verge of saying something more, but closed his mouth again after a moment. “Shall we go down to dinner before they miss us?”

 

“Probably. They’ll wonder what on earth we’ve been up to. Quidditch theory?” Oliver pulled his robes over his head and shot Harry a quizzical glance.

 

“That sounds highly plausible.” Fishing under the pillow, Harry slid his glasses on and the two boys walked out of the dormitory together, no longer under the shadow that had appeared over Harry.

 

***********

As the portrait closed behind them, a face peered out from behind the back of a cushy chair facing the fire. “What are they up to?” Lavender Brown slipped out of the common room behind them, following the sound of Harry and Oliver’s voices.


	8. Huffing and Curses

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermione gets frustrated with Ron; they attend a DADA class with Moody.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, thanks for reading! The only thing I wanted to mention for this chapter is that yes, this Moody is the real Alastor and not Barty Crouch Jr. 
> 
> Comment if you have any suggestions or ideas, and enjoy!
> 
> -masqueradeofwords

“So where have you been all day?” Hermione inquired. “I haven’t seen either of you since noon, and that’s with a fair bit of searching as well.”

 

Harry suppressed the alarm bells that almost showed in his expression before replying, “Oliver had me review Seeker positions in an empty classroom, because we needed a blackboard.” The team captain nodded, accepting the untruthful statement swiftly, and managed to come up with enough detail to deliver a two-minute monologue about the importance of the Seeker’s altitude and location at all points during the game. “...and when the Chasers are in arrowhead formation and about to score, the Seeker should be approximately ninety-one meters above the ground and-”

 

Hermione cut him off, laughing. “That’s enough, I get it. To be honest, it sounds like dreadfully dreary work to me, but I suppose to a Quidditch player it’s like reading a volume on ancient runes. Well, I had a fascinating time with Luna this afternoon. She really is quite an amazing person.”

 

Ron snickered. “Loony Lovegood? That crazy eckle?” He shook his head disbelievingly, still chuckling at the notion of Hermione and Luna spending time together.

 

Hermione’s brows furrowed angrily, and she glared at Ron. “You wouldn’t know anything about her, would you? She’s not crazy, she’s wonderful! Sure, a bit quirky, but she’s funny and generous. And what even is an eckle?”

 

The Weasley shifted uncomfortably and scratched the back of his neck. “You really don’t know? I guess you might not, being Muggleborn and all. Well, er, it’s someone who likes, you know, other people of the same sort.” After the other two stared blankly at him, he sighed. “You know, like a girl liking a girl or a guy liking a guy. I don’t know what the Muggle word for that is.”

 

“It’s called being gay or lesbian, Ron. And what exactly is wrong with that?” Her voice had grown surprisingly sharp, and her gaze steely. The red-headed teenager physically leaned back in his chair, taken aback.

 

“Well nothing I suppose, it just...doesn’t make sense. It’s sort of...twisted, isn’t it? And what do you care anyways?” Ron shrugged. “The Muggle word is weird though, innit? Gay…” He repeated it to himself. “Bizarre.”

 

Hermione gripped her fork tightly, causing her knuckles to whiten, and exhaled sharply. “It’s not very nice to comment on people’s preferences, Ron! And for the record, I have a close Muggle friend who is a ‘wingler,’ as you say!” She dropped her fork with a clatter and rose, storming out of the hall with her bushy hair bouncing furiously. Ron sat there with his mouth slightly open, shocked by her response.

After a moment, he found his voice. “That was...interesting,” he said hoarsely. “The only times I’ve ever seen her that upset were when she found out about the house-elves and...that night in the tent. Well, actually, the tent was worse.” Ron chuckled a little.

 

Harry didn’t know what to say, if he was to say anything at all. Could she be….he wondered. Should I tell her that I am too? What about Ron? And Oliver…..no. Harry sighed, rejecting the notion. It was too risky, and it could hurt too many people. Especially Oliver. He shuddered to imagine how the older boy’s life could suffer if it was revealed that he was a ‘wingler.’

 

The black-haired teenager stood up from the table, swinging his bag onto his shoulder. “I’m not that hungry, and I need to go study,” he explained. With that, Harry exited the hall. Oliver looked at him quizzically as he left, but shrugged. After all, if Harry needed to catch up on Potions then he was welcome to.

 

The youngest Weasley son shook his head, a bemused expression on his face. “What’s the world coming to, Wood? Hermione gets offended about some rights cause or something again, and Harry of all people gets up to go study. It’s like I don’t even know them anymore.” He laughed, but it was tinged with bitterness.

 

Oliver hesitated for a moment before saying, “Your friends are changing, as much as you are. They are going through difficult times. And sometimes it’s the case that if you’re a constant then you provide a stable anchor for the chaos, and sometimes they find comfort in one another and leave you out a bit. But they’ll come closer to you again, don’t worry.” He checked his watch. “Now, I have to get to Advanced Transfiguration.”

 

********

 

Harry found nowadays that the class he looked forward to the most was Defense Against the Dark Arts, and for good reason. Mad-Eye Moody was a strange teacher, to be sure, but he preferred a hands-on style that came more naturally to Harry than watching tutorials and practicing the same spell over and over to perfect it. Taking Moody’s classes were surprisingly like taking Lupin’s, but with a much fiercer and iron-handed teacher.

 

As he walked into the classroom, he saw that all of the desks were piled against the walls. That was usually the case. However, this time several target dummies were propped up in the center of the room. Moody had been adjusting the last one when he turned around. “Line up, pipsqueaks!” he hollered, causing some of the more audially sensitive students to jump.

 

Harry set down his bag by the door before taking his place, keeping his eyes in front of him and his hands behind his back. As well as being quirky but highly competent, Moody was a strict discipliner and wouldn’t stand for any kind of shenanigans. The teacher walked up and down the line of students, clacking his cane on the floor. “You there!” he barked without warning, directing his gaze at Dean. “Tuck in your shirt, it’s hanging out, and stand up straight.” He stopped in front of one of Lavender’s posse, and reprimanded her sharply. “Young lady, this class is not for wearing loads of makeup on one’s face. I suggest you take it off now, before it gets all over your robe.” The scorned Gryffindor quickly hurried off to the bathrooms, clutching a MagiMakeup wipe.

 

Clearing his throat, the old Auror continued. “Now today, we’ll be practicing several key curses and jinxes. Nothing too bad, like Unforgivables, although we’ll discuss those. Today, we’ll be covering Impedimenta, Reducto, and one that a couple of you may have used: Petrificus Totalus.” He winked at Hermione, who promptly flushed. Neville soured a little at the reminder, however.

 

One frightened girl raised her hand. “If they’re curses, aren’t they Dark Magic? Shouldn’t we not be learning them?” A couple others nodded in agreement, Lavender among them. Moody growled in response, and put his wooden leg down. The sharp resounding clack caused silence to fall over the classroom, and he nodded approvingly.

 

“That’s better. Now, three things. One - don’t interrupt me when I’m lecturing. Two - yes, they’re Dark Magic. Some say curses are the worst sort of magic. And three - you need to know them, so you can defend yourself against what’s out there.” Moody stabbed his finger toward the window. “Everyone got that?”

 

The rest of the class bobbed their heads vigorously, clearly eager to side with Moody. “Right!” he barked. “Get started, and I’ll come around and give each of you tips! You all remember the pronunciations and wand movements from your homework? Good.” He waved his wand, and it emitted green sparks. Immediately, the class started firing spells at the dummies.

 

Harry cast a Reducto first, calling the incantation loudly and performing the relatively simple jabbing motion that was required. He was quite surprised when it blasted a hole in the side of the dummy, and more so when a large hand clapped him on the shoulder. “Good job, boy. You’ve got a nice talent for strong spells, which’ll serve you well.” With that, the scarred teacher clunked down the line to admonish Seamus for the accidentally cast spout of rum that burst from the end of his wand.

 

Hermione looked at Harry, and they both laughed at their first-year memory of the boy trying to create rum from his water glass, and having the goblet explode in his face. “He got his wish!” the black-haired wizard quipped. The witch snorted, sending a neat Reducto that blasted her dummy’s head off. In the background, Moody could just barely be heard over the noise of the curses. “Foolish boy! Come on now, how did you manage to mix up an Impedimenta with a Vocato?”

 

*******

 

Lavender was deep in thought during the DADA lesson, wondering what had happened. The two had been in the common room the whole afternoon...despite the fact that they had told Hermione that Oliver was showing Harry something about Seeker stuff. She shrugged. Maybe she had just missed it when they had left to geek out about Quidditch things. 

She decided to keep an eye on them, though, as they could prove to be a source of juicy gossip. With that kind of information...she could finally find out what Parvati was keeping from her.


	9. The Fairy Tree

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> OKAY PEOPLE THIS STORY HAS LURCHED FROM THE GRAVE!
> 
> Hermione and Luna bond; Oliver and Harry experience a close call.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I AM SO SORRY IF YOU HAVE BEEN WAITING FOR THIS
> 
> For the past few months, some personal issues have caused a sort of block in my writing and everything I try is absolute shit! Finally (this is like the 12th time I've attempted this chapter) I wrote something that's decent!!! (I think)
> 
> Enjoy, please comment (but don't be a douche) as I love feedback and other comments!
> 
> Oh, and an IMPORTANT UPDATE:  
> THE NAME OF THIS STORY WILL SOON BE CHANGED TO:  
> "How Charming"  
> LOOK FOR THAT STORY  
> AND AGAIN, THANK YOU, I'M SORRY!

Hermione frowned, nibbling at the end of her quill subconsciously for a moment, then chided herself. A waste of good quills, she thought. Unusually frustrated, she set down the Arithmancy assignment and stretched. The room was filled with the sound of soft snores slightly muffled by the thick bed curtains, and some girl’s Crush Sensor that lit up every few minutes. Snorting, the witch crept across the room and whispered “Silencio,” causing the Crush Sensor’s noises to cease even though the thing was still lit up. Finally. Hermione quietly moved back to her bed, socked feet noiseless against the dormitory floor. 

 

A single sound, just a small creak, echoed across the nearly silent row of beds. Freezing in place, Hermione whipped out her wand once more and prepared to send a string of curses at the intruder. Another creak, then two more. Finally, the figure appeared at the doorway, and Hermione’s mouth opened in shock.

 

Standing there, in cute little cat pajamas, was none other than Luna Lovegood.

 

“How the hell did you get in here?!” Hermione hissed in surprise. Luna smiled at her. “I talked to the Fat Lady and got the password out of her. She’d had quite a few glasses of wine.”

 

“But...Filch? Ms. Norris?” Hermione raised both eyebrows, still taken aback by the blonde-haired girl’s sudden appearance. 

 

“Oh, Mr. Filch was in his office trying to cast a Summoning Charm with his Kwikspell letter, and I talked to Ms. Norris. She wanted to tell Mr. Filch, but I persuaded her not to.” Luna grinned devilishly. “Now, are you going to come with me or not? It’d be a shame if it was a wasted trip.”

 

Head spinning and whirling in a thousand different ways, Hermione stepped forward. “Of course, why wouldn’t I?” she said in a daze. Smiling dreamily, Luna took her hand and lead the Gryffindor out of the common room, the two witches creeping down flights of stairs until they reached the ground floor. 

 

“Where are we-” Hermione started to ask, but Luna shook her head and pressed a finger over her closed lips. They ran out through a side door, skipping playfully over the lawns of Hogwarts, until they reached a small cherry tree. There, Luna pulled her to the ground, eyes lit up with wonder and excitement.

 

“Is this it?” Hermione asked, looking around. The Ravenclaw girl nodded, crossing her legs and closing her eyes. “Just smell the flowers, and listen to all of the spirits dancing around us.” She inhaled deeply, clearly relaxing. “Isn’t it marvelous? All the energy and happiness?” Hermione sighed internally a bit, but pushed away her skepticality with some difficulty. Inhaled.

 

“Oh!” Hermione gasped slightly as the overpowering but somehow still subtle scent of the flowers hit her, and without willing it her muscles released all of the tension they had been holding. Opening her eyes slightly, she turned to Luna and smiled. A true smile, something pure and joyful and free. Radish earrings swinging, the other girl returned it. 

 

Then, in a sudden urge, Hermione reached out and took Luna’s hand. She didn’t even realize what had happened until Luna stiffened in surprise, and she looked down to see their entwined fingers. Blushing deeply, the brown-haired witch quickly pulled her hand away in embarrassment.

 

Or would have, if Luna hadn’t grasped the witch’s hand tightly in her own. “It’s ok, Hermione,” the Ravenclaw chimed in her singsong voice. “It’s natural. Besides, what would this be except for a lovely date? Not every girl gets to slip out under Ms. Norris’s nose with me.”

 

The Gryffindor girl’s heart skipped a beat, and her cheeks flushed even more. “T-truly? You really meant this to be, you know…” she swallowed. “...thank you.” Leaning forward, Hermione gently bestowed a kiss on her ethereal love’s slender nose. “My feelings for someone are finally returned.”

 

Grinning with bliss, Luna clasped Hermione’s hand, and the two of them stayed like that for until the sky begin to lighten with the burden of day.

 

*******

 

“Now Gorgeon the Grumbly was one of the key figures in the War of 1649, can anyone tell me about him?” Professor Binns tried desperately to get a raised hand, scanning the crowd multiple times. “Anyone?” he repeated, voice slightly thinner. When no one’s hand shot above their head, he continued in disappointment. “Very well. At the beginning of the war…”

 

Harry sighed and yawned, pretending to be taking notes while drawing a sappy doodle. He traced the quill over the giant heart several times, and then added detail to the O + H that was inside. The black-haired wizard almost snorted aloud at the typicality of it all, but somehow couldn’t bring himself to stop elaborating on it.

When the lecture ended, Harry quickly snapped his notebook shut and gathered his things, exiting the classroom in a rush. Fifteen minutes to change before Quidditch practice, he thought. 

 

******

 

Wood’s face was pure ice as he stalked back and forth, practically spitting venomous fury as he outlined the entirely new plan he had devised for the next match. “So in this play, the Chasers will be here exactly unless something happens. Katie, five feet behind Angelina and three to the right-”

 

Fred snickered, drawing Oliver up short. “Wood, shut up and kindly let us play. A bit of strategy is good, but we’ve been sitting here so long that my buttocks have gone numb.” Swelling with fury and his face turning purple, the Keeper was beginning to resemble Filch. “WEASLEY! You cost us the last match-”

 

The seventh year’s rage-filled screaming was abruptly cut off when Harry gently touched him on the shoulder. “Oliver, calm down please. Fred and George may have been asses with the candy, but it doesn’t excuse the fact that you’re being a dick about it.” 

 

Wood, face hot and red, softened immediately as his brown eyes met Harry’s sharp green ones. A moment of understanding passed between them, and the whole team was silent. Straightening up, Oliver ran a hand through his hair, and Harry returned to his seat. “Fred, George...I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said that.” The orange-haired twins accepted his apology easily, and the Keeper dismissed the whole team to go play.

 

As the Gryffindors swooped through the sky like birds, whooping and laughing, the tense moment was forgotten.

 

*******

 

“So Harry, how’d you do that? I’ve never been able to calm Wood down when he was like that, just had to leave him alone until his hot little head cooled down.” George asked with genuine curiosity.

 

Shrugging uncomfortably, Harry replied, “I think it’s just because you’re always causing trouble, so the sight of you doesn’t help his boiling temper. We could have uses his brain to cook corn or something today!”

 

The Weasley twins laughed uproariously, and half the table turned to look at them until Fred waved a hand dismissively. “It was nothing, nothing.”

 

Laughing, the Gryffindor team enjoyed a hearty dinner, while Hermione and Luna sat at the end of the table shyly holding hands. It was a perfect night.

*******

 

Later, Harry and Oliver sat on the older boy’s bed, gently kissing one another. After several seconds, the two parted, and Harry adjusted his askew glasses. “Close call today, huh?” he whispered. Oliver nodded, slowly stroking Harry’s cheek. “We’ll be more careful in the future.”

 

The younger wizard raised an eyebrow, hands on Wood’s shoulders. “You mean you’ll be more careful in the future. I was fine.” His boyfriend chuckled softly, and his hand moved down to the base of Harry’s throat. “That’s a dangerous game, but two can play at it.”

 

He slipped off the fourth year’s pajama shirt slowly, undoing every button with his cool fingers. When it was done, both boys sat shirtless on top of the covers. “Ready?” Oliver asked, eyes demurely flicking up to meet Harry’s. “I’ve been for several minutes now,” the younger boy replied in a mock huff.

The two Gryffindors fell back onto the bed together, joyfully mingling in innocent love.


	10. The Sherlock of Ravenclaw

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Yule Ball is announced; Harry and Hermione have a talk.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, I'm starting to stick to an upload schedule, so here you all go! Enjoy ;)

Professor McGonagall remained stiffly unchanged, despite the varied and uniformly extreme reactions from students. Several of the shier Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs had buried their faces in their hands or flushed red, while others were shouting with excitement. Harry, Ron, and Hermione were among the majority of students, who were clearly unsure how to react. 

 

In the front of the room, the stern witch called, “Quiet, everyone, please. I know that you are all very excited that we are bringing back an ancient tradition, but I did not lift the mandate for civility in my class. Now, over the course of the next few months a few class sessions will be canceled and swapped for dancing classes.” She adjusted her glasses and looked around. “Traditionally the Yule Ball has been an element of the Triwizard Tournament, but the proposal to bring back the tournament as well has been declined by the Department of Magical Safety and Security.”

 

Fred and George Weasley snapped their fingers in disappointment, but most students clearly had their minds on the ball. Both Harry and Hermione were nervous, Harry’s mind on Oliver and Hermione’s on Luna. Could I bring him? Harry thought anxiously, while his witch friend bit her nails. McGonagall continued calmly, “No one is required to bring a partner to the Yule Ball, but it is traditional to do so, with the boy customarily inviting the girl. However, if you do find your...romantic endeavours...unsuccessful, you may simply attend with friends or by yourself.” With that, she whipped out her wand and started lecturing them on more complex Switching spells that involved human swapping.

 

Hermione’s worries vanished as soon as McGonagall started the lecture, but Harry was still obsessing over it. Could I ask Wood? We could always go as friends...what if we went as boyfriends, not lying to anyone? But I can imagine the other students’ reaction…

 

However, his attention was diverted to the present as well when McGonagall slashed her wand in front of his face and barked the incantation, causing his ears to swap with those of a Kneazle. Startled, the black-haired wizard looked around at the giggling class, then felt his ears and yelped. 

 

“Mr. Potter, I suggest you think about your conflicted heart and woes of love when we are not learning dangerous magic?”

 

*******

 

The two girls parted gently, Luna’s hand entwined with Hermione’s. The leaves of the blonde witch’s fairy tree rustled gently in a sunny afternoon breeze that caressed their cheeks, though not quite as gently as they did for each other. “It’s such a nice day,” Hermione murmured, leaning comfortably onto her girlfriend’s shoulder. “Feels too warm and mild to be true.” Luna shrugged, gently stroking her brown hair. “It makes it all the more special, doesn’t it?” She paused for a moment, then looked at Hermione. “Have you thought about the ball?”

 

The Gryffindor stiffened. “No, I haven’t much really…” she admitted, sounding worried. Relaxing into the Ravenclaw more, the witch laid her head on Luna’s knee. “It’s just...what do we do? Going as just friends, and maybe enjoying a little cuddle back in the gardens?” She looked up at the dreamy witch for some kind of assurance or suggestion, anxious about the different possible scenarios. Luna tilted her head thoughtfully, earrings swinging, before softly saying, “I would like to go as ourselves, just as we are. But...if you’re uncomfortable with that, we can go just as friends. I think you’re afraid of rejection, of a world that will tell us we’re evil. I think you don’t want to lose Ron and Harry as friends, or earn the disapproval of your teachers. I think you might just be wrong about that.”

 

Hermione sighed deeply. “Ok, I could try it. It’s just...Ron expressed a touch of distaste towards us...what’s the wizarding word again? And Harry, he’s been raised with snobby rich Muggles, he’s probably even worse than Ron.” At the gloomy statement, Luna burst into rich laughter that lasted for several seconds, before straightening up and wiping her eyes. “Oh, Hermione, you can be so funny sometimes. Of course Harry will be fine with us! He’ll probably feel quite relieved.” The Gryffindor frowned.

 

“I mean, I suppose he might have told you that he doesn’t care about that, but how do you know?” she asked, puzzled. The blonde-haired witch, still smiling, explained, “Harry is like I am, and you are. An eckle, which is the less polite term for it, we use the Muggle terms if we’re being polite. Gay.” Hermione sat reeling with shock, and Luna continued. “I won’t say who it is, but if you pay attention like I do it’s fairly obvious. Haven’t you ever wondered where Harry is so much these days?” Hermione’s expression shifted to hurt, and Luna quickly soothed her. “I’m not saying you’re unobservant, it’s just that I seem unusual to a lot of people. I probably am.”

 

“So...he’s dating another Gryffindor? It’s not Ron, it’s not Seamus or Dean...is it a boy in our year?” Luna shook her head, stroking Hermione’s hair again. “I think you should ask him yourself. It’s not my place to tell, after all.” The Gryffindor nodded, and then moved in a blur. Luna was flat on her back before she realized it, and she stared at her girlfriend like an owl. “I’ve gotten rather tired of talking,” Hermione said, grinning as she leaned down to kiss the Sherlock of Hogwarts.

 

******

 

Harry kissed Oliver on the cheek. “Night, Wood.” He smiled, and the seventh year returned the sappy grin as the younger wizard tiptoed back down the stairs to his own dorm, his heart aglow with happiness like it always was after spending time with Oliver. The Potter crept across the row of beds like a cat, careful not to wake the loudly snoring Seamus or Dean, who was drooling excessively on his pillow.

 

However, when he reached his bed and pulled the bed curtains open, Harry saw a faintly glowing note resting on top of the comforter. Quickly re-closing the curtains behind him, he sat down and opened it, scanning the few terse words written on it. “Harry, this is Hermione. Meet me in the common room late at night, midnight if you can, when everyone else is asleep.” Checking his watch to see that it was ten minutes past that, the wizard yelped and stuffed the note into his pajamas, sneaking all the way past the oblivious fourth-year boys again.

 

When he stepped out into the eerily silent room, his friend was waiting for him on the sofa. “You’re a bit late,” Hermione whispered, turning around and giving Harry a quick once-over with wand light to make sure he was the right person. Harry hissed, “What the hell is it that needs to be talked about at midnight in the Gryffindor common room when we have a Potions exam tomorrow?!” The witch looked him in the eye and replied evenly, “Your absolute and utter gayness.” Paling, Harry sat down with a thump.

 

“Hermione, what the fuck…?” Suppressing his enormous internal panic, Harry managed to tug his eyebrows and mouth into a confused expression. “Why would you think that? I’m not, although I don’t have any problems with it, I was even planning on asking Cho Chang to the ball, so I can’t see-” Hermione cut him off with a slash of her non-wand hand, interrupting, “Cut the bullshit, Harry, do you think you’re going to get away with that after you turned from bright red to white as Moaning Myrtle?”

 

The Gryffindor sighed, putting his head in his hands. “You’re far too smart, Hermione,” he mumbled. “How did you know? Do you know...who?” The witch shook her head, replying, “It was actually Luna who told me, but she didn’t want to tell me too much. She said, you know, that it’s your secret.”  
Harry sighed, combing through his unruly hair with sweating hands. “All right.” he whispered. “It started after Fred and George disqualified our team from a Quidditch match…”


	11. UPDATE

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I surge back to life!!!

Hey readers!

So, no point in beating around the bush, I'm just gonna go straight to it. I know I have completely failed at updating this story in any way since August, and that I am terribly sorry for. But I haven't really had a spare inch of time where I feel energetic and motivated enough to write lately, as it's been a huge crunch in terms of daily life. HOWEVER I am not stopping this fic, fear not, and I'm going to attempt to return to a regular upload schedule. We'll see how that goes, but I can promise at least 1 update this month. Thank you all so much, and I am very sorry for keeping you waiting. (pleeeease don't kill meeeeee!)

with humble apologies,  
The Flaky Author


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